


Farewell

by rutherfords (seblaiens)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Goodbyes, Last Kiss, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seblaiens/pseuds/rutherfords
Summary: Jaime is leaving King's Landing.





	Farewell

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written for this fandom before but I cannot believe they left out this absolutely canon scene um what the fuck?

Jaime saddles his horse in a hurry, knowing that Cersei could change her mind at any moment. She could send The Mountain after him, or any of the other men in her army - they belong to the Queen, not him, after all. He doesn’t plan on stopping for one second until he’s out of her reach, heading north and only stopping when tiredness would make him fall of his horse or hunger pain him so much he’d scream. 

There is one voice though, that could make him pause.

“Leaving?” Bronn asks, and Jaime turns around to see him leaned against the stable’s wall. He looks even more haggard than usual, having clearly not slept well since meeting in the Dragon Pit. “Never thought I’d see you desert Cersei.”

“And I never thought I’d leave before you do,” Jaime replies, turning back and trying to fasten the saddle. It’s harder with one hand, but he’s gotten used to it by now, after months of having to re-learn how to do everything in his life. “Why  _ are _ you still here?” 

Bronn shrugs, pushing himself off the wall. WIth a light shove he takes Jaime’s place, fastening the buckles for him with deft and quick fingers. “Figured I’d watch till shit really starts stinking, I guess.”

“And it hasn’t reached that point yet?”

“Guess it has, if even you are bailing.” Bronn looks at him with his eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for an explanation Jaime isn’t willing to give him.

“Get out of here,” Jaime says after a while, staring at the now fully saddled horse. “Find somewhere safe, take a ship to Essos-”

“And you?”

“I’m riding north.” Jaime turns to pack what few things he’s going to take with him on his journey, fastening the sack on the saddle. Bronn still doesn’t step away, now uncomfortably close as Jaime wants to take the reins and guide the horse outside.

“You’ll die before you’ll make it up there on your own.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.” He can see Bronn clench his jaw, clearly weighing his options. He doesn’t want to go with him, that much is clear - there is no promise of gold in the north, only certain death, and Bronn is a sellsword by heart. He’ll take the easy way out, the one that promises him survival. Fighting for Daenerys is not an option for him.

“You’re a damn idiot, you know that right?” Bronn asks, and Jaime almost laughs. “An idiot, and you still haven’t given me my castle.” He swallows hard as Bronn turns towards him, his expression solemn. Before he can think more about it, Jaime wraps his arms around him, pressing their chests together and resting his chin on the other man’s shoulder. “What is all this shit about paying debts if you don’t do it after all,” Bronn mutters, his voice quiet as he talks into Jaime’s coat. 

“Get out of here,” Jaime repeats again, not knowing what else to say. He steps away from Bronn, barely a foot away from him before he’s being pulled down, and lips meet his. It’s short, their mouths barely moving against each other before parting again, but it says more than any of them could have articulated with words. When they part, Jaime only nods at Bronn before he steps away and Jaime leads his horse outside.

“Don’t fucking die, you bastard,” Bronn says, sighing as Jaime steps in the stirrups and heaves himself up.

“If I make it out alive-”

“Don’t fucking say you’ll come find me, just don’t.”

Jaime nods at him and presses his lips together, pushing his legs against the horse to make it start walking.

“Farewell, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater.”

“Farewell, cunt.”


End file.
